


A Story in Kisses

by ardentaislinn



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, S3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5051239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentaislinn/pseuds/ardentaislinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each kiss tells its own story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forehead Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Based on drabble prompts sent to me from [this](http://pleaseletmeshowyou.tumblr.com/post/131348030314/send-me-one-of-the-following-numbers-a-ship) list.

His lips brushed her forehead, soft as butterfly wings. Jemma shuddered, torn between yearning and fear.

“I’m not...I’m not ready, Fitz,” she whispered as he pulled away. She kept her gaze glued to the buttons on his shirt.

“I know,” he said simply. “But I can wait.” He said this as if it was easy. Perhaps it was. Perhaps she was difficult.

“I may never be ready. Never be back to the way I was.”

He slid his hands up her arms to grasp her shoulders, his questioning eyes searching her face to make sure his touch was alright.

“Jemma, I will love you no matter what you go through and whether those experiences change you. You’ll still be you. If the span of the entire universe and certain death didn’t stop me, nothing will.” He took a deep breath, earnest eyes soft with love. “And if you are never ready, then it will still be worth it. I’ll consider our time together a privilege just the same.”


	2. Romantic Kiss

Jemma watched Fitz across the pillow as he slept. Her gaze tenderly roamed his chest as it rose and fell beneath the linen of his shirt; saw the light flutter of his eyelashes against his cheek; the soft exhalation of his breath passing his lips. Tenderness welled within her, steady and true.

He’d been so good to her, so good _for_ her, through this healing process. He often stayed with her until she fell asleep, and Jemma knew that it must be affecting his own sleep schedule. She had tried to tell him that he could look after himself sometimes, but of course he wouldn’t hear of it.

Tonight he had succumbed to the building exhaustion and drifted off before she did, and Jemma was enjoying having the opportunity to simply look at him. He spent so much time looking at _her_ \- watching her, making sure she was alright - that she couldn’t sneak a peek at him unobserved. Now, though, she could process how their time apart had changed him.

It wasn’t just the stubble, or even the way he looked at her that was different. The lines were deeper on his skin, a map of his experiences etched onto his face for the world to see. He looked more lived in, comfortable in his own skin, and so solidly _present_ in ways that he never had been before.

Her hand moved of its own volition, palm brushing against the fabric of his shirt before settling over his heart. She shifted, as carefully as possible, until her front lightly touched his side. Her breath fanned across his cheek and his breathing hitched a little in his chest as awareness returned to him. He cracked one eye open, rolling his head slightly to look at her.

“Hi,” he murmured, a slight smile quirking his lips. He eyed her curiously, obviously wondering at her proximity.

“Hi,” Jemma replied, unable to stop the answering smile from blooming on her face.

His eyes softened. “I like seeing you smile.” He carefully took her hand, the one over his heart, and laced their fingers together.

She stretched her neck so she could brush her nose against his cheek. Their lips were centimetres apart, and Jemma heard the change in his breathing. But he didn’t move, didn’t _make_ a move, and affection washed through her. The silly, stubborn man was going to let her take the lead on everything, no matter his own personal desires.

So Jemma closed the last of the gap between them and pressed her lips against his.

The response was instantaneous, as he matched her pressure and movements. She kept the kiss steady and unhurried, taking all the time in the world. He followed her lead as she deepened the kiss, and heat began to build between them, the embers that always burned within her when she was around him flaring joyfully to life. It was the kind of kiss that was a beginning; a fond farewell to what had been and a promise of what would come.

The moment came when Jemma knew she would have to pull back or the kiss would slip into territory that she wasn’t quite ready for, no matter how tempting it might be. She slowed her movements, then stopped, and Fitz once again took her cue.

She pressed her forehead against his for a moment before settling back, away from his enticing lips and their possibilities.

“So,” she said.

“So,” he replied, trying to contain a grin. She laughed softly, allowing her own happiness to spill forth.

It really was the start of something wonderful.


	3. Goofy Kiss

He was still so _careful_ with her - treating her like shattered glass that had been painstakingly stuck back together with little more than a wish and a prayer.

If Jemma was honest, it frustrated more than charmed her. It was difficult to enjoy a fledgling relationship when one half of it was treating the other with kid gloves.

She wanted to revel in it, to allow her emotions to soar like they hadn’t in a very long time. She’d spent so long closing herself off, restraining her thoughts and feelings out of fear, that she wanted the freedom to spread her wings and _savour_ life.

Unfortunately, Fitz’s care was making her too aware of herself. She was too conscious of every little thing she said and did because she knew that he was watching, assessing, always. He never said it, but he was worried. _Too_ worried.

Which is why Jemma wondered at the possibility of Karma when, too concerned with watching her, Fitz walked forehead-first into a door and cracked his head. Not much, but enough that Jemma felt a little bit smug.

“Fitz, I told you to keep your eyes to yourself,” Jemma admonished playfully as she sat him down on a stool and reached for the first aid kit.

“Sorry,” he replied sullenly. Jemma rolled her eyes.

She carefully cleaned the small cut on his forehead, conscious all the while of his eyes on her. This time, though, instead of worry in his gaze it was burning heat, no doubt due to her proximity and the view he had down her shirt from his vantage point.

Heat prickled across Jemma’s skin, tightening in anticipation. Her breath grew heavy and her movements slowed, drawing out her ministrations.

“I’m not fragile, Fitz. I’m getting better,” she murmured, brushing her fingers over his cheek.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I worry so much. I know you are capable. More so now, even.” He had the grace to look shamefaced and Jemma’s heart melted a little.

“Does this mean you’ll stop staring at me all the time?”

Fitz grinned. “I can’t promise you that. Not when you look like you do.” He gave her an exaggerated wink, and Jemma burst out laughing.

Fitz chuckled along for a moment, then winced.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Jemma, voice dripping with false sympathy. “Do you want me to kiss it better?”

Fitz pouted dramatically. “Please.”

Jemma cupped his face and gave his forehead a great, big, smacking kiss. Then, softer, she tilted his head up and brushed her lips against his.

“Thank you,” he whispered against her lips.

“It was my pleasure,” she replied.


End file.
